


Beall

by Darkknightsrevenge



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Twilight Rewrite, genderswapped bella
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21637465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkknightsrevenge/pseuds/Darkknightsrevenge
Summary: When Beall Swan moves to Forks Washington and meets the mysterious, alluring Edward Cullen, his life take a thrilling and terrifying turn. A reasonable rewrite of the series with Bella genderswapped.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, beall swan/edward cullen, male bella/edward cullen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

My mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I was wearing my favorite shirt - a short sleeved white tee shirt with a picture of a feather on it; I was wearing it as a farewell gesture. My carry-on item was a Columbia ski jacket.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on the inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States of America.

It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been compelled to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I came out to my parents, and everything had changed; these past three summers, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for two weeks instead.

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself - an action that I took with great horror. I detested Forks. I loved Phoenix. I loved the sun and the blistering heat. I loved the vigorous, sprawling city.

"Bee," my mom said to me - the last of a thousand times - before I got on the place. "You don't have to do this."

Everyone says my mom looks a lot like me, except female and with more laugh lines. I felt a spasm of panic as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. How could I leave my loving, erratic, hare-brained mother to fend for herself? Of course, she had Phil now, so she'd be protected, have food, gas, and someone to talk to, but still...

"I want to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it sounded almost convincing now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," She insisted. "You can come home whenever you want - I'll come right back as soon as you need me." I could see the sacrifice in her eyes behind the promise.

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "I'm almost a man now. It'll be great. I love you, Mom."

She hugged me tightly for a minute, and then I got on the plane, and she was gone. It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Luckily flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, I was worried about.

Charlie had really been fairly nice about the whole coming out thing three years ago. It had genuinely shocked him that his only son turned out to be gay, but he seemed genuinely please that I was coming to live with him for the first time with any degree of permanence. He's already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car.

But it was sure to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us was what anyone would call verbose, and I didn't know what there was to say regardless. I knew he was a little confused by me and my decision - like my mother before me, I hadn't made a secret of my distaste for Forks.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen - just unavoidable. I'd already said my goodbyes to the sun.

Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser. This I was expecting, too. Charlie is Police Chief Swan to the good people of Forks. My primary motivation behind buying a car, despite the scarcity of my funds, was that I refused to be driven around town in a car with red and blue lights on top. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop.

Charlie gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I stumbled my way off the plane.

"It's good to see you, Bee," he said. "You haven't changed much. How's Renee?"

"Mom's fine. It's good to see you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face until I turned eighteen.

I only had my suitcase and messenger bag, which I think surprised my Dad. Most of my clothes weren't really suitable for cold weather, so I had my mom keep or donate them, and took what I could with me. My mom and I had pooled our resources to supplement my winter clothes, but it still wasn't much. Luckily, I wasn't a clothes horse.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," Charlie announced when we were buckled in.

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said, "good care for you" as opposed to just "good car."

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

"Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black down as La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"No."

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted. That would explain why I didn't remember. My dad forced me to do all sorts of 'manly' things before I came out to him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continues when I didn't respond, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question he was neither hoping nor expecting me to ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine - it's only a few years old, really."

I hoped he didn't think so little of my masculinity as to believe I would give up that easily.

"When did he buy it?"

"He bought it in 1984, I think. "

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties - or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ch-Dad. I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrongs, and I couldn't afford a mechanic..."

"Really, Beall, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

The thing, I thought to myself... It had possibilities - as a nickname as the very least.

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on.

"Well, son, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression. Wow. Free.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car."

"I don't mind. It's a father to son kind of thing. Plus, I want you to be happy here."

He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited that from him. So, I was looking straight ahead as I responded.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I really appreciate it." No need to add that my being happy in Forks is an impossibility. He didn't need to suffer along with me. And I never looked a gift truck in the mouth - or engine.

"Well, now, you're welcome," he mumbled, embarrassed by my thanks. We exchanged a few more comments on the weather, which was wet, and that was pretty much it for conversation. We stared out the windows in silence.

It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It was beautiful, but too green - an alien planet.

Eventually we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had - the early ones.

There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new - well, new to me - truck. It was a faded red color, with bug, rounded fenders and bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I actually liked it. I didn't know if it would run, but my fears that it was a manly redneck truck unsuited for my sexuality vanished.

"Wow, Dad, great pick. I love it. Thank you." Now my horrific day tomorrow would be just that much less dreadful. I wouldn't be faced with the choice of either walking to miles in the rain to school or accepting a ride in the Chief's cruiser.

"Glad you like it." Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.

It took only one trip to get my few bags upstairs. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard. The room was familiar; it had belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the indigo curtains around the window - these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for bed, adding a desk, and allowing me to put up posters of Hollywood males as my tastes changed.

The desk now held a second-hand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from my mother, so that we could stay in touch easily. I also noticed with slight distain that my Johnny Depp poster was hanging askew and that the rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner.

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mother.

It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to state dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape. I wasn't in the mood to go on a real crying jag, a rather female habit that had presented itself in my character the last few years. I would save that for later, when the thoughts of the next morning became too horrible.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven - now fifty-eight - students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together - their grandparents had been toddlers together. I would be the new kid from the big city, a curiosity, a freak.

Maybe, if I looked like a normal guy from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, muscled, popular - a football player or wrestler, perhaps - all the things that go with living in the valley of the sun.

Instead, I was pall, without even the excuse of blue eyes or red hair, despite the constant sunshine. I had always been skinny and bony, obviously not an athlete; I didn't have the necessary hand-eye coordination or testosterone to play sports without humiliating myself.

Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my yes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain. But the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was the effect.

And tomorrow would be just the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

I didn't sleep well that night, even after I was done with the little crying I would allow myself. The constant whooshing of the rain and wind across the roof wouldn't fade into the background, even after I pulled my old quilt and pillow over my head. I didn't pass out until after midnight, when the rain finally settled into a quieter drizzle.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window in the morning, and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; it was like a cage.

Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event. He wished me luck at school. I thanked him, knowing his hope was wasted. Good luck tended to avoid me.

Charlie left first, off to the police station that was his wife and family. After he left, I sat at the old square oak table and examined his small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed.

Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year.

It was impossible, being in the house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket - which had the feel of a biohazard suit - and headed out into the rain.

It was drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked.

I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned it up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. Luckily the engine started quickly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Not a bad flaw for a truck like this. The radio at least worked.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop.

It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size as first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading 'FRONT OFFICE'. No one else was parked there, so I was sure it was off limits, but I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling the lot like a dunce.

I stepped unwillingly out of the toasty truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. I took a deep breath before opening the door.

Inside, it was brightly lit and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chirrs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly.

Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front.

There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. she was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Beall Swan." I informed her and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. I was expected, a topic of gossip no doubt. Son of the Chief’s flighty ex-wife come home at last. Wait until they figure out I’m gay...

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk until she found the ones she was looking for.

"I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me.

She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day.

She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could.

When I went back out to my truce, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy.

At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes of Porsche in the student lot. The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention.

I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath.

I can do this, I lied to myself feebly.

No one was going to bite me.

I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck, keeping my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk crowded with teenagers. My plain jacket didn't stand out.

My first classroom was small. The people walking in ahead of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name - not an encouraging response - and of course I flushed tomato red.

He sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed.

I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything.

That was comforting... and boring. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. I shrugged inwardly. I didn't mind reading books a second time, I loved to read.

When the bell rang, nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Beall, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type.

"Sup?" I said. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me.

"Where's your next class?" He asked. I made a three-second assessment of his sexual orientation, then remembered I had to look in my bag for my schedule.

"Um, Government, with Jefferson. Building six."

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way..." Definitely over-helpful, definitely not gay.

"I'm Eric." He added.

I smiled tentatively. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" Eric asked.

"Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

"Three or four times a year."

"Wow, what must that be like?" He wondered.

"Sunny." I told him.

"You don't look tan, bro."

"My mother is part albino."

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck." he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some classes together, man." He sounded genuine.

I smiled vaguely in reply and went inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyways just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself.

After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me how I was liking Forks.

I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, but her wildly curly dark hair made up some height for her. I couldn't remember her name, but I got the vibe that she was one of those girls who just gravitates toward gays.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names instantly.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, five of them. They weren't talking or eating, though they each had a try of untouched food in front of the them.

They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big - muscled like a serious weightlifter, with dark curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular and honey blonde.

The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque and had the kind of looks that made every girl round her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. The short girl looked like a little pixie with pointy hair.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of all the students living in this sunless town. They all had very dark eyes despite the range in their hair colors. They also had very dark shadows under those eyes.

But all this was not why I couldn't look away. I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful.

They were faces you never expected to see except perhaps on the airbrushed pages of a fashion magazine. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful - maybe the perfect blonde girl or the bronze-haired boy.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class, whose name I'd forgotten. As she looked up to see who I meant - though already knowing, probably, from my tone - suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one, the boyish one, the youngest, perhaps. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine.

He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

"That's Edward, Alice and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced again at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, his perfect lips barely opening as he spoke to the other.

"They are... very nice-looking." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement.

"Yes!" The girl giggled, and I suddenly remembered that her name was Jessica. "They're together though - Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together."

Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix it would cause gossip.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related..."

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties of thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins - the blondes - and they're foster children.

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something."

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely, I would have noticed them on one of my summers here.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were outsiders. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish-brown hair?" I asked. He was still staring as me, but not gawking like the other students had today - he had a slightly frustrated expression.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course. And single. apparently, none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he's turned her down, and whether his disinterest in the opposite sex might mean something else... But I wouldn't get my hopes up.

I bit my lip to hide my smile. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away now, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too.

After a few more minutes, the five of them got up and left the table together. They were all noticeably graceful - even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. Edward didn't look my way again.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day.

One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy too.


	3. Chapter 3

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat.

He was staring at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face - it was hostile, furious.

I looked away quickly, shocked, trying not to go red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled, and I smirked at her to save face. She blushed.

Mr. banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. I could tell we were going to get along. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room.

I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me.

I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad.

Wow. Edward Cullen must have figured it out... because he was taking homophobic to a whole new level.

During the uncomfortable class that followed, Edwards never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under the pale skin. This too, never relaxed.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because I was waiting for a sign of acceptance from my stony desk mate?

I peeked over at him one more time and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. The phrase if looks could kill ran through my mind.

At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose - he was much taller than I was - his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my chair, staring blankly after him. He was so mean. It wasn't fair. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up.

For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tea ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, something that earned me lots of humiliation in elementary and middle school.

"Are you Bell Swann?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-face boy, his pale blonde hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. Definitely gay.

"Beall." I corrected him, with a smile.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike."

"Do you need any held finding your next class?"

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it.

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer - he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He's lived in California till he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class too.

He was the nicest person I'd met today.

But as we were entering the hum, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So, I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Edward Cullen's usual behavior.

I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly.

"Yes," He said. "he looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike said, following me into the locker room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

Definitely, definitely gay.

I smiled at him before going to find a locker. He was friendly and clearly admiring, but it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forks was literally my personal hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained - and inflicted - playing volleyball. I felt nauseated.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself.

When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized again that tousled bronze hair. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance. I stood pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low, attractive voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time - any other time.

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk.

Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me - his face was absurdly handsome - with piercing, hate-filled eyes.

For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist.

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip.

"How did you first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine." I lied. I could tell she didn't believe me.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield blankly.

Soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life.

I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day was better... and worse.

It was better because it wasn't raining yet, thought the clouds were so dense and opaque. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day.

Mike came to sit by me in English, and walking to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all the while; that was flattering. And it made me re-think my judgement on Eric's sexual orientation. I decided on bi.

People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered.

It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house.

It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised, and I had the wrong answer.

It was miserable because I had to play volleyball. That was a total catastrophe.

And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't at school at all.

All morning I was dreading lunch, fearing his bizarre glares. Part of me wanted to confront him and demand to know what his problem was like any other testosterone-crazed male, I even imagined what I would say...

But I knew myself too well to think I would have the guts to do it. I made the cowardly lion look like the terminator.

When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica - trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for him and failing entirely - I saw that his four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them.

Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. I vaguely wondered if Jessica knew that Mike was gay.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, Edward Cullen hadn't appeared. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class.

I held my breath at the door, but Edward wasn't there. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach.

He lingered at my desk till the bell rang, then smiled at me wistfully and went to sit at his desk. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy.

In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential since no one knew about my Homosexuality, and I had a feeling they didn't know about Mike's either. Unfortunately for me, I hadn't had many boys crushing on me, so my tact when it came to things like that was... well, lacking.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself and that Edward was absent, I told myself repeatedly, but I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there.

It was ridiculous and egotistical to think that I could affect anyone that strongly... Not to mention impossible.

When the school day was finally done and the blush caused by my numerous volleyball accidents had faded, I changed quickly out of my P.E. clothes and back into my jeans and navy-blue sweater vest and scurried out of the locker room, pleased that Mike hadn't waited for me.

I hopped into my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed.

Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon, So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of my stay.

He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall, though I think he was surprised that his only son wanted to do the cooking in his house.

I had also found out this morning that we had literally no food in the house, which wasn't very encouraging to a seventeen-year-old boy who despite his slim figure ate a lot.

So, I made a shopping list and took the money out of the jar labelled FOOD MONEY and made a date after school with the local Thriftway.

I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction, and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot.

As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was the shiny new Volvo... of course.

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I was finally free of the school grounds.

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off the highway.

It was nice to be inside the supermarket, it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, and I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind.

I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the over to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge.

When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into sweats and checked my email for the first time. I had three messages.

Beall, write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Did you see it in the laundry? Phil says hi. Mom.

I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first.

Beall, why hadn't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom.

The last was from this morning.

Young man, If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today, I'm calling Charlie.

I rolled my eyes then checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun.

Mom. Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash. Beall.

I sent that, then began again.

Mom, everything is great. Of course, it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about. school isn't bad, just repetitive. I met a nice crowd. The blouse is at the dry cleaners, they called last Friday. Charlie bought me a truck, it's old but sturdy and I love it. I miss you too, I’ll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my e-mail every five minutes. Remember what I told you at the airport? I'm a man now. I love you. Beall.

I hit send, then picked up my copy of Wuthering Heights - the novel we were currently studying in English - and began reading it again for the fun of it. That's what I was doing when Charlie came home.

I'd lost track of time, and hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

"Beall?" My father called out when he heard me on the stairs.

Who else? I thought to myself.

"Hey Dad, welcome home."

"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job, but kept it ready.

When I was younger, he'd remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily.

"Steak and potatoes." I answered, and he looked relieved.

He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were both more comfortable that way. I made a salad while the steaks cooked and set the table.

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into the room.

"Smells good, son."

"Thanks."

We ate in silence for a few minutes. it wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us were bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for living together.

"So, how did you like school? Have you made any... ah, friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds.

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike... he's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception, I added mentally.

"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid - nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here."

I knew that Charlie's short interlude about the Newton family was his way of approving Mike as dateable material.

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man."

"They... The kids... Are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school."

Charlie surprised me by looking angry.

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital int he world, make ten times the salary he gets here," He continued, getting louder.

"We're lucky to have him - lucky his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature - haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should - camping trips every other weekend... Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying.

I backpedaled.

"They seem nice enough to me, I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive." I added, trying to be more complimentary.

"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around."

We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes by hand - no dishwasher - I went upstairs to my math homework.

I could feel a tradition in the making.

That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the week was uneventful.

I got used to the routine of my classes and by Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school.

In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.

Edward Cullen didn't come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. The I could relax a little and pay more attention to the lunchtime conversation.

Most of the others were talking about a trup to La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. He had invited me a little too enthusiastically, and I accepted more out of politness than desire. I was of the opinion that beaches should be hot and dry.

By Friday, I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Edwards would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for his contineud absence.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend.

I cleaned, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mom more bogusly cheerful e-mails.

I also drove the the local library on Saturday. It was pitifully stocked, but I got a card and checked out a few novels anyway. I reminded myself to make a date to visit Olympia or Seaattle soon and find a real bookstore.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved bck and smiled at everyone. It was colder, but happily not raining.

In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz, and I thought I saw him peeking at my answers.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable that I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable that I had ever expected to feel here.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."

I looked up at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

"Ew." Snow. There went my good day.

Mike looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"

"No. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. "Besides, I thought it waas supposed to come down in flakes - you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips."

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" Mike asked incredulously.

"Sure I have." I paused. "On TV."

Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, back towards us - in the wrong direction for his next class.

Mike apparently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, i'm outta here."

He just nodded, hell-bent on getting Eric back.

* * *

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure it was drier than rain... until it melted in your socks.

I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Mush baclls were flying everywhere. I kept a bunder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary.

Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself.

Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food.

I glanced toward the table in the corner out of habit, then froze when I saw five figures at the table instead of four.

Jessica pulled on my arm.

"Hello? Beall? What do you want to eat?" I looked down; my ears went hot.

I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"Something up, man?" Mike asked.

"Nope. I'll just get a soda." I replied.

"You're a teenage guy, and you're saying no to food?" Jessica asked incredulously.

"I feel a little bit sick." I said, my eyes still on the floor.

I waited for them to get their food, then followed them to a table, stomach churning.

Mike asked twice, with unnecessqry concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing, but wondered if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour.

But that was ridiculous. I was a man, wasn't I? I shouldn't have to run.

I decided to allow myslef one glance at the Cullen family's tble. If he was glaring at me, I would skip Biology like the coward I was.

I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little.

They were laughing. Edward, Jasper and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair towards them.

They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else. Only... they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.

But aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I coudlnt' quite pinpoint what the difference was. I examined Edward the most carefully.

His skinw as less pale, I decided - flushed from the snow fight maybe - the circles under his eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more. I pondered on this for a while, trying to isolate hte change.

"Beall? What are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.

I dropped my head, taking a quick swig of my soda to try and cover myself. I was sure in the instant our eyes met, Edward didn't look harsh on unfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you." Jessica said in my ear, sounding slightly surprised.

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking.

"No..." she said, sounding even more confused by my question. "Should he be?"

"I don't think he likes me." I confided. I still felt queasy.

"The Cullens don't like anybody... well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But he's still staring at you."

"Stop looking at him, then." I replied.

Mike interrupted us then - he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. I resisted a snicker... poor girl still didn't know.

For the rest of lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I would go to Biology.


End file.
